Angels Of Heaven And Earth
by truglasgowgal
Summary: Sequel to 'Chipping Away The Ice'. Sydney may not have been the reason behind his destruction, but the real question is: will she be his redeemer... or is he just too far gone to be saved?
1. Angels Of The Silences

**Title:** Angels Of Heaven And Earth  
**Disclaimer:** I think you all know the drill by now; only those characters I've made up belong to me, the rest all belong to J.J.Abrams and his people yada yada yada …  
**Summary:** Sydney may not have been the reason behind his destruction, but the real question is: will she be his redeemer … or is he just too far gone to be saved?

* * *

Prologue – Angels of the Silences

**Well I guess you left me with some feathers in my hand  
****Did it make it any easier to leave me where I stand?  
****I guess there might not be too many who would stand beside you now  
****Where'd you come from? Where am I going?  
****Why'd you leave me 'till I'm only good for –  
****Waiting for you  
****All my sins –  
****I said that I would pay for them if I could come back to you  
****All my innocence is wasted on the dead and dreaming**

"Why did you bring him here, dad?" Sydney demanded of him as soon as they were alone.

"Why? He's a terrorist, dad! You could lose your job. Hell, you could go to prison. And for what? For who? _Sark?_ If he really worth all that?" she questioned.

"He's not who you think he is, Sydney … I'm not even sure he ever was," Jack simply answered her.

"Wh – " she started to say, but Jack cut her off.

And as his eyes set on his daughter's then, he uttered the immortal words … "He's broken, Sydney."

**Every night these silhouettes appear above my head  
****Little angels of the silences that climb into my bed and whisper  
****Every time I fall asleep Every time I dream  
**"**Did you come? Would you lie?  
****Why'd you leave us 'till we're only good for –  
****Waiting for you"  
****All my sins –  
****I said that I would pay for them if I could come back to you  
****All my innocence is wasted on the dead and dreaming**

TBC …

* * *

Song: 'Angels of the Silences' by Counting Crows

Thanks so much for reading, please let me know what you think - it means alot!  
Steph  
xxx


	2. City Of Devils

Chapter One – City Of Devils

_**Man once sang to me  
Look at you saving the world on your own  
And I wonder how things gonna be  
'Cause the time here it passes so slow  
In a city of devils we live  
A city of devils we live  
Find somebody to learn  
Boy you gotta love someone more than yourself  
I can feel the fire of the city lights burn  
It's hard to find angels in hell**_

"I never fully understood what your mother told me that night," Jack started. "She was trying to explain to me what she and the others all saw in Sark. What we couldn't see in him."

And he took an audible breath in, before he began …

…

**"You knew I had an agenda, Jack. I always do, after all," she said, her accented voice reverberating off the walls surrounding them.**

**And Irina let out a short bitter laugh then, before it ceased and she spoke once more.**

"**Jack, you've seen Sark. You've worked with him. You know what he is capable of. When I told Sydney where to find him, I didn't just do it so the CIA would gain Sloane's whereabouts. I did it for his protection."**

"**What are you talking about?" Jack questioned.**

"**Ever since that day, Sark had become so distant, so cold. At first, I accepted it. He had just lost his wife, his infant son. He had just come to your attention, had just become a major target to you all. It was to be expected, I rationalised, he was simply resorting back to his training for his own survival – it was smart, tactical."**

_**Flying along, and I  
Feel like I don't belong and I,  
Can't tell right from the wrong, why,  
Have I been here so long**_

**She took a visible breath in then, before carrying on, "But after a while, I began to notice that the man Eden married, the father of her children; he was slowly slipping away. He rarely saw Avalon then, a safety precaution on both our parts, and to be expected given the current circumstances. But as his visits with her became less and less frequent, he started to become colder and colder. He was slowly turning into the perfect spy – no attachments, no feelings, nothing."**

**And at this, Irina looked down to the floor briefly, before meeting Jack's gaze once again.**

"**I arranged for him to see Avalon not long before Stockholm. It was fine for a short while, but soon Avalon became angry – understandably so. She saw more of Mars than her own father; she saw more of the **_**maids and other house-staff**_** than she saw of Sark. She was young, Jack, she still is, but she's the daughter of **_**both**_** her parents; and Eden was not a woman to be taken lightly when provoked. An argument broke out. She ended up telling Sark that she hated him and that she wished Mars was her father instead of him."**

"**How did Sark react to this?" Jack asked then, his face stoic, but his eyes betraying his curiosity – if only to her.**

"**Like the emotionless killer we'd trained him to become," was Irina's matter-of-fact response.**

_**In a city of devils we live  
**__**A city of devils we live**_

**After a few moments, she took a breath in, met his eyes, and said, "Mars told me he'd managed to straighten things out between them, but I doubt even he was certain. Shortly after, my team intercepted communications between the members of another group we had been surveiling. One of my properties was mentioned. It was the one Avalon was currently staying at. Obviously I had her taken elsewhere, but they were getting closer, Jack. No one knew of her existence and that was how it was to remain – for all their sakes."**

**Irina's use of 'their' did not go unnoticed by Jack, but he chose to ignore it for the time being and simply focus on what she was really telling him.**

"**And, in the end, it benefited them all," she finished.**

"**After his stint in custody, Sark changed – again. When he came out, as soon as it was safe, he made contact with Avalon. It may be hard for you to believe, Jack, but we're not completely incapable of feeling, and despite all that he has done, Sark loves his daughter – even you cannot deny that," she said, her lips turning up at the corners in the slightest of movements.**

"**I know," Jack answered, cutting her off with his low-toned words.**

_**Questions I can't seem to find  
To the answers I already have  
And you can't see the sky here at night  
So I guess I can't make my way back**_

"**Earlier, when I walked in on Sark with Avalon, he … " but he stopped himself short just then.**

"**The way he looked at her … It's … It's the same way I look at Sydney," Jack carried on.**

**He raised his head and as their eyes locked, he let the admission pass his lips, "I see parts of myself in him."**

"**I cannot deny that he loves her, Irina – and I'm not going to. For whatever it's worth, I suppose. And no matter how much I disagree with the life that child has been forced to live because of you both, and the actions you have taken, she appears well adjusted. Clever, even. And what's more, she seems to be able to have fun without it involving shooting someone through the head," Jack said, with the smallest trace of a smile playing on his lips.**

**Irina smiled at him then; not being able to help herself as she heard these words and the look on his face that accompanied them.**

"**Now Jack, just because you don't seem to share our sense of humour, doesn't mean that Avalon doesn't," she answered him amusedly.**

"**I never said I didn't find that fun, Irina, merely that **_**she**_** didn't – which, considering who her guardians are, is something quite remarkable, wouldn't you say?" he replied, the corners of his lips twitching upwards even further.**

**Irina inclined her head slightly, her smile playing across her features notably, as she murmured, "Indeed."**

_**Flying along, and I  
Feel like I don't belong and I,  
Can't tell right from the wrong, why,  
Have I been here so long**_

"Sydney," Jack turned to her then. "I will not deny that Sark is a killer, that he has done terrible things; things that even his behaviour of late will, no doubt, never absolve. But I saw him at Irina's. I saw him with his daughter, Sydney. And we all know what he did in Italy. He has changed, Sydney, for whatever reason, he has changed."

And stepping forward then, he placed his hands on his daughter's shoulders, and said to her seriously, "I'm not saying we should suddenly forgive him for all the wrong he has done, or that we simply forget it ever happened. We cannot erase the past, Sydney, no matter how much we may want to."

And then their eyes locked once more as he said, "But what I am saying is … 'lay off him' for a while, Sydney. Try and see him for what he is now, not what he may or may not have been before. Because, no matter what you think of him, he just watched his child die and that is something no-one, not even someone like Julian Sark, should have to witness."

_**What if I wanted you here right now  
Would you fall in the fire burn me down  
If I wanted you here right now  
Would you fall in the fire burn me down  
If I wanted you here right now ...**_

Her father had left to go on a 'short' and "inexcusably important" trip, and with Sark having been holed up in _his room_ for God knows how long, Sydney had been left alone for the past four days with only her thoughts, which after being restricted for such a extensive period suddenly seemed to bombard her all at once. She stood over the sink, everything else forgotten, and suddenly sobs racked her body.

She thought of Danny, of Noah, of Francie, of Will; of her mother. She thought of Sark, of his wife, of his sister, of his son; of his daughter. She thought of how such tragedy could touch such innocence as that of his young children. She thought of how such tragedy could touch such ignorance as that of her oblivious friends. She thought of how such tragedy could touch such individuals as that of an Intelligence Agent and a freelance mercenary. She thought of how such tragedy could connect two people such as themselves.

**  
**_**In a city of devils we live  
In a city of devils we live  
A city of devils we live  
In a city of ...**_

"Bristow, are you _crying_?" Sark's voice cut in; his tone of slight disgust breaking her from the words and images racing through her mind.

Sydney, still hunched over, wiped at her eyes angrily with the back of her arm and straightened up furiously, questioning, "And if I am?"

"So what? What about _you_, Sark? What dark terrors are you hiding from? Your daughter's dead, isn't she? Why? What happened? Huh? What happened Sark? _Tell me_!" she stopped, breathing hard from her rant, a little surprised at both her actions and the words that had suddenly just flowed from her mouth.

She glared down across at Sark. Who, for his part, was stunned. And angry. _Very_ angry.

_How dare she?_ he thought. _He _was the one who was supposed to make the unfounded claims. She had no right…

"That's none of your business, Bristow," Sark said in a deadly, soft voice.

Apparently, the warning didn't register with Sydney, because she stuck her hands on her hips and demanded, "Why not? What are you hiding, Sark?"

Sark saw the thought forming in her eyes before she could even voice it.

"How _dare_ you?" he hissed in that same low tone. "How dare you think that? No matter what I have done or what you believe me to be, Bristow, I did _not_ kill my daughter."

**  
**_**Flying along, and I  
Feel like I don't belong and I,  
Can't tell right from the wrong, why,  
Have I been here so long**_

"I'm not afraid of you," she told him unyieldingly, watching him through shielded eyes.

Sark raised an eyebrow and glowered wickedly.

"That's all very well and good, Sydney," he replied, "but perhaps you _should_ be."

And he turned on his heel then and exited the room, leaving her; back pressed up against the counter, an audible breath escaping from her lips, and relief suddenly flooding through her system.

A moment later and she had grabbed her purse, keys, phone and gun and had left the house, not caring if he heard the thud of the door on her way out or not. She just had to get out of there.**  
**

_**I don't belong  
Don't belong  
I've been here too long  
Too long**_

_TBC ... _

* * *

Song: 'City Of Devils' by Yellowcard

Thank you for reading, an please leave me a wee review to let me know what you thought - con.crit is welcome too, always helps me to improve, which is good :)  
Thanks again  
Steph  
xxx


	3. Dying

Chapter Two – Dying

Exhausted and dejected, he rested his hands on the wall around the patio garden, and stared out at the dark sky of the metropolis, his senses drawing momentarily towards the lights and sounds of a nearby road. This city. It had seen the best and the worst of him. He knew pain. He knew it all too well. He had vowed never to feel it in its full intensity again.

He stayed there for some time, breathing in the cool night, before moving inside to his room. And as he sat in the darkness, that only the dead could relate to, he felt the tiredness wash over him like night into day.

_A wise man once said that tragedy is not what we suffer, but what we miss_.

He let the sentence roll through his head over and over, and he couldn't remember where he read it, or where he heard it, but he couldn't stop thinking about it.

And he couldn't decide if it was right or wrong.

Because the pain had engulfed him and suddenly there was a tightness in his chest that threatened to choke him.

"_And at times the fact of her absence will hit you like a blow to the chest, and you will weep. But this will happen less and less as time goes on."_

This statement. This, he recalled as being from Sandman. Why he remembered this, he didn't know, just that he did and that the words fitted far too well with what he was experiencing then to dwell on it further.

His legs gave way beneath him and he felt himself drop to the carpet; his body sliding down the side of the bed. His hands instantly moved to cover his face as sobs began to rack his body. Physically and emotionally exhausted, he resigned himself to his position on the floor, as wet salty streams rolled down his cheeks, and haunting voices and damning images raced through his head.

**I'm Dying, Dying to wake up without you, without you in my head again  
****I'm Dying, Dying to forget about you, that you ever lived  
****There's a shade come over this heart that's coping with laying down to rest  
****I'm Dying to live without you again**

She slipped in quietly, hoping that he wouldn't even notice she was there.

Then she heard it; the small sound coming from along the corridor. Curious, she crept along, almost tiptoe like, making sure to keep her breathing quiet and controlled as she moved. She pushed the door open cautiously, allowing her an inch-by-inch view of what lay inside.

And, of course, then she _saw_ it: the destruction that seemed to have taken place in the room.

The contents of the bedside table had been swept off and broken, articles previously placed on top of the chest-of-drawers were strewn haphazardly about the floor, reflective slivers of the former _intact_ mirror peppered the carpet along with clear shards of glass, and the bed was a mess, the blankets and pillows tossed around the room.

Her first thought was the inane exasperation that she'd be hard-pushed to find a substance that would get the deep burgundy out from the cream carpet, and that he better have a good cleaner on his payroll.

Her second was the numbing fear that somehow, in the – relatively – short space of time since she'd been gone, someone had attacked him. Burglars, some stray followers of Rambaldi, enemies from times of old, relatives of those he'd killed; it didn't matter who. The result to him would have been the same.

But as she stepped further inside, grabbing for her gun at the small of her back as she did so, she saw the hunched figure on the floor by the bed.

Sark.

**I'm Dying, Dying to find a distraction, get you away from me  
****I'm Dying, Dying to reach a conclusion, so that the world can see  
****It's the same old story of love and glory that broke before it bent  
****I'm Dying to live without you again**

He sat there, his shoulders bent, his knees drawn up towards his chest, his head in his hands.

_Crying?_

Naturally, on seeing this, she instantly stopped, frozen in place.

But he must have heard her because he turned, belatedly trying to quiet himself and wipe the evidence from his face. He didn't hold an expression akin to horror that she was seeing him like this, however, but something else entirely.

She understood, as soon as she's set eyes on him, that he hadn't been attacked, he hadn't been robbed … he had done this himself.

He had destroyed the room on his own, in a fit of … _something_. Rage? She didn't know how to explain it.

Because that wasn't anger she'd seen when she'd walked in. It was desperation. It was misery. It was hurt.

Heartache?

She didn't know what to make of it, but she knew she couldn't leave. She was stuck there, in awe, but not repulsion. It seemed impossible that this man, this man whom she hadn't even thought capable of any deep feelings at all, was _crying_.

"Get out," he told her; but he didn't shout the words, didn't need to; his voice was filled with enough menace to put his command across plainly.

**The first time you left I said goodbye  
****Now there's not a prayer that can survive**

Sydney had never seen Sark fall apart before. Indeed she'd never seen anyone fall apart – not like this anyway.

But seeing Sark fall apart was something she never wanted to see again.

Because it wasn't pretty. Or graceful. It wasn't held together or strong. It was the exact opposite. It was ugly, and gut-wrenching, and she couldn't help but feel her own tears come to her eyes to see him in such pain. To see him on his knees, sobbing, practically _begging_ for his daughter back was something Sydney _never_ wanted to see again.

She was down on her knees next to him in half a second, holding him, trying through some divine province to take some of his pain away, but she couldn't. All she could do was be there for him, let him cry into her shoulder, and hope that this was the worst she'd ever have to see of him again.

His sorrow called out to her, drew her forward like a moth to the flame. She couldn't leave him, whether either of them wanted her too or not, she just couldn't. And as she sat there with him, she didn't know if he truly realized it was her arms around his body, her ruined shirt soaking up his tears…anything outside of the pain of his loss.

**Dying, Dying to die just to come back so we can meet again  
****Dying, Dying to say what I always should have said  
****It's a strange emotion this but there's still hope in this  
****As long as there's a breath …  
****I'm Dying and I can't live without you again**

"Don't think this changes anything, Sydney," he said calmly, as he sat up while turning to face her. "Your moment of weakness is going to cost you. As has mine."

"You know what, Sark? If I cared anymore about you than I already do, I might actually hate you," she snapped back at him as she violently jerked her arm away and shifted over.

If she had been listening a little more carefully, though, Sydney would have noticed his use of 'has' rather than 'will'. But as it was, Sark's response initiated an instant irritation in her, meaning despite her ability to compartmentalize his words, she wasn't analysing his speech pattern as he spoke; she was simply thinking of how satisfying it would be to throttle him just then.

Sark merely watched her, almost lazily, and straightened out his clothes, as he tried to get the slight tremors running through his body under control.

"You'll hate me eventually," he murmured softly.

"I don't think I will," Sydney said after a moment, saying the words deliberately. "I've known you long enough, Sark, to know what kind of person you are; at least I thought I did. And suddenly in no time at all, I learn that not only are you not the cold hearted, heartless bastard we all thought, but you're also a father; to an eight-year-old little girl. Avalon."

"Don't say her name," he ordered in a deadly low tone.

Sark's eyes flashed in rage.

Sydney's eyes narrowed in determination.

"My own father told me you weren't who we all thought you were. My own father, Sark. Jack Bristow. He told me you were a different person altogether. He told me to see you for what you are now. He told me to 'lay off you'. He told me not to dredge up the past. _He told me_, you watched your daughter die – so what happened, Sark? Tell me! What happened with Espinosa? What happened in that warehouse?" she demanded and was, once again, breathing hard from her rant.

It hadn't worked the first time, but that had been fuelled more out of rage and annoyance towards him than anything else. Now she just wanted him to snap out of it all. She wanted him to shout at her, scream and tell her to shut up. She wanted him to hit her, punch her in the face just to get her to stop talking. She didn't care what he did; she just wanted him to do _something_.

She wanted a reaction.

**It's a strange emotion this but there's still hope in this  
****As long as there's a breath …**

Sark faced her, struggling to reign in his fatigue and swirling emotions behind his composed façade, "Just … give me time … Sydney. Please."

She stared at him; knowing she'd gotten the reaction she'd wanted, but slightly uncomfortable with the form it came in.

Sark was now pleading with her; pleading with his eyes for her to grant his request.

He was a heartless assassin; so cruel she actually doubted he had emotions at all. Not so anymore.

He had mastered the art of preserving his mask so well that when they met she occasionally found it difficult to know when he was making a genuine proposition and when he was simply playing her.

He was, essentially, the perfect spy.

Created by the perfect mentor.

But the words her father had left in his wake flooded through her senses, "Just give him time, Sydney, give him that."

Along with that, set in the realization that a killer would not have these emotions, but … a man lost without his companion would.

And as her eyes traced over his face then, she couldn't help but wonder how something so beautiful and perfect could be so tainted by such evil and immorality? Her heart panged somewhat as she caught the brief sorrowful expression that had been etched across his face, mocking him; a painful reminder that his flawlessness on the outside could never make up for, or even compare to, the scars on the inside.

Now she saw that he was just a helpless man begging for a chance to overcome something he'd never encountered before, or possibly, had simply just never dealt with before: loss.

Who was she to deny him?

So she nodded her head, and conceded quietly, "All right."

And as she watched him replicate her actions, before his head dropped slightly, the thoughts began to rush through her head once more.

_Why did the devil's advocate want redemption for his sins?_

**I'm Dying and I can't live without you  
****I'm Dying and I can't live without you again**

He sensed at once what she was thinking, and raised his head slightly, uttering the words clearly and cleanly, "What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and suffers the loss of his own soul?"

Words taken from The Bible; the Holy Book. Words taken from the mouth of Jesus himself; the Messiah.

Words now flowing from the lips of one of the most depraved and deplorable men in the world.

And yet Sydney found herself taking them in, accepting them, and finding she'd uncovered a small part of the 'real' Julian Sark in the process.

_TBC..._

* * *

Song: 'Dying' by Five For Fighting

Sorry about the wait, I'll try update more often :)  
Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think - feedback is much appreciated!  
Steph  
xxx  
:D


	4. I Want You Back

Wow, ok haven't posted in AGES!  
And what's worse is that this chap was actually up on sd-1 this whole time an I didn't realise, thought I'd levelled out my posts between here and there.  
Anyway, sorry about that, I'll try make the updates a little more frequent from now on :blush:

Here's the 3rd part, I'll try get part four up uber-quick to make up for the time-lapse ;) (just sorting out the lyrics)

Hope you like...

* * *

Chapter Three – I Want You Back

Sark knew he was no good to anyone, least of all himself, in the state he was currently occupying. He'd suffered loss before, but it was nothing compared to how this felt. He'd watched his wife, sister and infant son die, but somehow he'd managed to carry on living, and soon the pain had dulled. But this; this was different. He felt as if the pain would never go away, felt almost like it shouldn't, and wasn't completely sure he wanted it to either.

Previously he had pushed forwards, putting all his energy into other more beneficial and practical things. He'd suffered, but he'd survived; so he knew he should – no _could_ do it again. But he had Avalon then.

One day, some time after they had died; the pain from their deaths had dulled. Simply that. And he felt that hurt even more than the pain itself. Knowing that he'd moved on so much that he didn't even suffer inside for their murders. That hurt more than anything before it ever had.

But still, again, he had Avalon then.

Now she was gone, and he had to wonder if he'd ever get to that feeling again. Wasn't sure if he completely wanted to, but was curious all the same if he'd actually make it even close.

**Take me back to the place where I  
****Loved that girl for all time  
****Why must life just take away  
****Every good thing one at a time**

He soon figured out though, that the only way to find out, either way, was to try. Not to mention the fact Avalon wouldn't want him sitting around … 'moping' all the time; not that _he_ viewed it as such, but she certainly would. It was a sure fire way to get himself killed as well. She'd disapprove of that immensely, because … oh how she hated incompetence. Especially on her father's part. That she couldn't stand. And even from the grave, he'd no doubt she'd make her point known.

And so Sark realised fairly early on that he wouldn't last long where he was unless he worked out some sort of agreement with the CIA. (Well, APO at least anyway – which sounded _slightly_ more appealing than the complete organisation itself; but then black ops sections seldom didn't to him.) That was, if they would be willing to make an agreement with him. The thought quickly disappeared from his mind, however, because while the CIA claimed they didn't "make deals with _terrorists_", along with the rest of the country and its administration, he knew that when it really came down to it, how Sydney Bristow felt could quickly and easily be overruled if the intel he could provide them with was worth it. Besides, he seemed to have Jack on his side; so convincing the others to follow him should be fairly simple in his mind.

His theory was proved right, when after some input on the elder Bristow's part, Dixon agreed to a deal; having been appointed to Sloane's old post after the other's … demise. The 'agreement' they had reached involved him not only supplying information to the CIA, but also accompanying them on certain mission if his "expertise" – his word, not theirs – were needed. Needless to say, the latter he was not so enthusiastic about. In fact, he wasn't so enamored by the former, but he was willing to 'go along with it' for formalities sake and the firm knowledge that he actually held the cards in the situations where they _needed_ to consult him. Not to mention it kept him from being incarcerated once more, something he wasn't fond of in the least, and he supposed, it did allow him an access to guns and weaponry, which for once in his life was legal.

And lastly, something he considered a 'prize' in the circumstances: Sydney had been the one _assigned_ to 'keep an eye on him'. Something, which just made everything else more worthwhile really. Anything to wind her up.

Of course, when Sydney found out it was a completely different matter. She was furious. Positively livid, in fact. Oh, how he'd enjoyed seeing that.

"You think by doing this you'll prove to me that you're not simply a heartless killer? That you might actually _care_ for other people?" she probed as soon as she exited the room – the glass walls of which had provided him with ample viewing apparatus for the scene between the more 'senior' members of staff and herself.

"What does it matter to me what you think, Sydney? You formed your opinion of me long ago, and I doubt that shedding a few tears will change that, never mind cooperating with your organisation. Am I correct?" the blonde answered, making sure he locked eyes with her throughout, before he turned on his heel and left her standing alone, reeling.

She eyed him warily as he walked away, voicing quietly to herself, "What are you doing, Sark?"

**I want it back  
Well yes I want it back  
Yes I want you back  
Please give it me back  
Cause I want your love**

Vaughn hadn't taken the news well at all – actually, that was quite the understatement. He point-blank _refused_ to let her take the 'position'; a decision which was, naturally, overruled by not only her father, but also Sydney herself. And so things between Sydney and Vaughn were a little tense at the moment. She wasn't exactly happy about having to look after Sark, as she saw the role, but Dixon had pretty much _ordered_ her to and she'd handled Sark in the past so, if anything, she figured better her than someone who didn't know him as well. Vaughn didn't see it this way and didn't find a problem voicing his opinion. So, as a consequence, the two hadn't really been speaking amicably – or rather, that was all they'd been doing. Talking politely to each other, in a static, completely awkward way so as not to offend the other or spark another argument – which were becoming all too frequent these days.

After he'd returned from the 'errand' he'd been forced to run with Sark, he'd been … different. Distant. She knew it was have been hard for him, especially under the circumstances it had all taken place, and knew that the effect of seeing Lauren, like that, must have been difficult. So she tried to give him what he needed, whether unconsciously or not; she tried to give him some space, not provoke him or smother him, just leave him be for a while. But she sensed that might not be enough to stop what was happening to them both. It wasn't like it was before. And it wasn't likely to be any time soon either.

And so Sydney did the one thing she knew she had to. _But, oh, how had it managed to come to this_, she couldn't help but think to herself sadly.

It was supposed to be better. Now they had 'their shot', 'their turn', 'their _chance_'; it was supposed to work out. They were supposed to get back together and things would go back to how they were before; the good times. But they didn't. And now she was sure they weren't going to.

She managed to get him alone later that same day, away from the chatter and constant presence of everyone else, using the words every member of a couple dreads; "We need to talk."

Their interaction didn't last long. He repeated questions, but when she replied, he didn't like the responses. He wanted answers she couldn't give. She wouldn't give them either, because he wanted to satisfy his need to be right. And he wasn't. He definitely wasn't.

She hadn't broken up with him because of Sark.

She had broken up with him because of them. Her and him. Sydney and Vaughn.

At least that was what she kept telling herself.

**How can I not even cry?  
****For such a big thing in my life  
****The pain it takes the part of me  
****Turn around and say goodbye**

Vaughn stopped abruptly as he reached the table and saw a certain figure before him, muttering venomously, "Sark."

The blonde simply nodded at him, saying almost dismissively, "Vaughn."

The green-eyed Agent then turned to Sydney, questioning, "What is _he_ doing here?"

"I wasn't allowed to leave him alone. Remember?" she replied; referring to the rather obvious fact that the CIA didn't trust Sark yet, and weren't about to let him loose, alone, with a newly forged pardon – of sorts anyway – in his hand.

"So, you – you brought him with you?" he exclaimed in response.

Sark rolled his eyes. Having to be around Sydney when she was acting the way she was at the moment was bad enough, but if Vaughn was going to constantly stick around he felt he'd have to knock himself out.

"So, why are _you_ here Agent Vaughn?" Sark took the opportunity to ask, knowing just how it would rile the man.

Vaughn glared at him as he moved further into the room, answering, "The same thing could be said for you, _Julian_."

"Now wait just a minute!" the blonde protested in mock offence at this.

"I'm on the side of 'all that is good and just' now. So _you_," and he pointed his finger at Vaughn, "Better play nice."

"Or what? Like you said, you're on the side of 'good' now", Vaughn responded, smiling smarmily at the blonde.

"Well, you know me," Sark replied with a casual shrug, before a smirk appeared on his face. "I don't like playing by the rules."

Vaughn stepped closer to him, definitely invading the blonde's personal space.

"Why don't you put your gun where your mouth is then, Sark?" he responded, with narrowed eyes.

"So sure you could take me, _Michael_?" the other baited in return, resulting in the Agent taking a lunge towards him.

"Hey! Stop it! Both of you, cut it out!" Sydney's voice suddenly interrupted them as she jumped in between the two men.

Sark just let out a laugh, which formed into a smirk almost immediately, as he stepped backwards with his hands raised in a pretend defensive move. Sydney stared at Vaughn for a short while, before he relented and turned and moved across to the opposite side of the table.

"Right, now if you're both finished," Sydney said with a quick glance at both men. "We can actually get started."

**I want it back  
****Well yes I want it back  
****Yes I want you back  
****Please give it me back  
****Cause I want you**

"You think by doing this you'll prove to her that you're worth it? That you're better than me?" Vaughn questioned through gritted teeth as they crossed through the doorway side-by-side.

"I am worth it, she already knows that I'm better than you, and doing this … well, it just makes me soft," Sark told him, ending with a smirk, before walking ahead into the other room.

Sydney had explained the mission objective to them just previously. While Weiss "watched over things," back at APO, they had to infiltrate an organisation and take control. Simple. Everything in the building was to be saved, and prisoners taken, but if – by hazards of the job – that was not possible, then as much as could be, that was of value, was to be preserved or captured and taken back and the rest was to disappear. So basically, they were to "burn the motherfuckers to the ground," as Sark had put it once she'd finished.

The wording he'd chosen had thrown her off guard slightly, but his actions moments later fitted perfectly with the change that had stirred within him during the briefing.

The blonde moved swiftly across to the table then, picked up one of the guns, and raised it to eye level as he cocked it, checking its sight.

Then he turned to Sydney as he lowered the weapon, and said simply, "So, which one of the bastards will we be killing first?"

It was obvious to Sydney then why he had 'switched sides'.

Sark equated the men they were after with those that had killed his daughter. Mere business associates at one time or another though they had been, he still felt they deserved to be punished; and so here they were.

She supposed it made sense that he wouldn't do it for the benefit of mankind. Besides, it would've sort of tainted his image if he had.

x

Just before they were due to leave, Jack held a short meeting. After a final check over equipment and detail, Sark was the first to leave, and Vaughn took his chance to voice his opinion.

"I don't trust him," he said, watching the blonde's figure as he walked along the corridor. "He's got to have some ulterior motive in all this."

"Perhaps," Jack said. "But it's doubtful."

"No, it's not," Vaughn returned with a scoff. "He was all ready to take me earlier. Would've too is Syd hadn't stopped him. Does that sound like the actions of someone we can trust?"

Sydney turned her head to the side, rolling her eyes at the comments, but keeping tight-lipped so as not to draw any unnecessary attention to her.

Instead, her father merely answered, "It's easy to be good, when that's all you've ever been taught."

Vaughn's brow furrowed, annoyed, as he questioned, "And what's _that_ supposed to mean, Jack?"

"Think about it, Agent Vaughn. When you were young, essentially, above all else, you were taught to be good. So naturally, you turned to the good side. Same with the rest of you," he said, glancing at them each in turn.

"What do you suppose Sark was taught when he was young? If indeed he grew up with Irina Derevko, do you suppose she taught him 'peace, love and happiness'? Or perhaps she subjected him to watching _Disney_ videos over-and-over; the likes of 'Bambi' and 'Sleeping Beauty'? Oh, yes, that would certainly explain his loving nature," Jack continued, ending with a slight smile.

"No, but it would explain why he's such a flaming ponce,, Weiss said with a short laugh, looking over at Sydney briefly, whose lips twitched into a smile as she met his eyes.

"He is what he was raised to be. Nothing more. Nothing less."

And with those words, Jack left them.

"Why are you doing this?" Sydney asked him, when Vaughn had, reluctantly, left them both to, presumably, go to the toilet.

She already knew the answer, or felt she did at least, but she was still badgering for him to admit it himself.

He looked at her for a slight moment, then leaned back in his seat and stretched out his legs as a smirk set on his features and he asked playfully, "What's the matter, Sydney, don't you [itrust[/i me?"

She simply smiled sweetly back and replied, "Why of course I do, Julian. I just thought that since we're going to be _partners_ and all, it would do you well to reveal your true motive in this whole scheme."

The blonde's smirk seemed to grow at this, and when he caught sight of Vaughn returning, eyes narrowed in his direction, he simply rose languidly from his seat in place of answering, and moved forward past the green-eyed Agent.

But as Sark walked towards the cabin, he leaned down and murmured in brunette's ear, "It's a complicated world, Sydney. Only the naïve view it in black and white."

And then he left the former lovers alone with each to their own thoughts.

**How did you do it females?  
****It's always you do it angels  
****You always keep me on the run  
****So how did you do it angels?  
****Always you do it females  
****You always keep me on the run**

"You told Vaughn that you loved Lauren, was that true?" Sydney's voice broke through his thoughts.

"I was … 'fucking with him' – as I believe the term goes," Sark answered.

And a wry smirk appeared briefly on his face, as he added, "And judging by the way you posed that question, I'd say I did it exceptionally well too."

"Liar," she uttered simply.

"Excuse me?" he asked, with a scoff, raising an eyebrow at her.

"You felt something special for her, I can tell. You – " the brunette carried on.

"Before you continue, Sydney, let us get one thing straight right now. I did not, and never have _loved_ Lauren Reed. I may have been having a sexual relationship with her, but that is in no way an indication of my _love_ for the woman. I killed for her, yes. As she did for me. But my relationship with Lauren never once constituted anything remotely related to any 'deeper feelings' I may have had for her, no matter how she felt towards me," he cut her off.

And his eyes fell to the floor for the shortest of moments before he looked back at her, and told her plainly, "I have only ever _truly_ 'loved' a handful of people, Sydney, and Lauren Reed was never one of them. No matter what I said to your precious Vaughn."

"Was my mother one of this 'handful'?" she asked after some relative silence had settled between them.

"There are many forms of love, Sydney. I cared a great deal for Irina, that much is true. You already know I regarded her, in many respects, like a mother to me. She also meant a lot to my daughter and my trust for her, in that regard, was perhaps only matched by that which I shared with a select few people, only one of whom is still living. Irina spent quite some time with my daughter, and the effects that the matters which she chose to involve herself in, just prior to her … demise were going to have on Avalon, was cause for my concern," he replied.

"Well then, I guess you can be glad now that such an influence in your daughter's life is no more," Sydney said; her tone coming out far more sarcastic and casual than she'd intended.

"Yes, I imagine you're correct – but my daughter is dead, so I don't think it particularly matters anymore, do you?" Sark answered her coldly, looking up at her with dark eyes, before they dropped to the floor.

And he didn't look back up until he heard her footsteps leave the cabin and the click of the door as it shut behind her.

**I want it back  
****Well yes I want it back  
****Yes I want you back  
****Please give it me back  
****Cause I want your love  
****But I can't let myself love you**

_TBC ..._

* * *

Song: 'I Want You Back' by Kooks 

Quotes: "It's a complicated world, Sydney. Only the naïve view it in black and white." – Smallville

Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think - feedback means alot, and like I said, I'll try get the next post or two up really soon.  
Steph  
xxx  
:D


	5. Animal I Have Become

First of all, I apologise profusely for the lack of updates prior to this one and yeatserday's.  
I'm afraid I have no real excuses for this, bar it being my own fault, well, that and my muses' (They tend to come in tandom with one another.) They've been currently stuck on my CSI: NY fics and a new HP one, but I'm steering them back to this (though they're multi-talented so I'm typing three at a time - definitely a different experience! )

So, anyway. Due to the lack of updates I'm going to give you chapter four just now, but because it's a little short, I'll try post chapter 5 tonight or tomorrow.

Hope you like...

* * *

Chapter Four – Animal I Have Become

**I can't escape this hell,  
So many times I've tried,  
But I'm still caged inside,  
Somebody get me through this nightmare,  
I can't control myself. **

Over the months he had the _immense_ pleasure of having Sydney for company whenever he was called to assist APO with an assignment. As his first mission they asked him to spec out a building and to make sure his Intel was accurate they sent him along. It took them some time before they finally 'eased up on him' and began simply using him for information rather than an extra operative. As a result he didn't accompany the agents on nearly as many operations as he was 'forced' to in the beginning.

To ensure he didn't lose his value, APO made sure he still maintained somewhat of his 'former' mercenary figure. They knew if he didn't he would most likely disappear somewhere, pardon in hand, and they'd lose the 'in' he frequently provided them in situations.

As a result his identity was never revealed on missions, only if he was separate from the original team; arriving at the location moments too late, or simply acting as a distraction for another agent, generally Sydney, to act.

But the assignment they had just been tasked with was one that required the three of them to work together; for them to rely on one another, look out for one another, trust the judgement of one another.

Of course, since Vaughn still had no intentions of taking Sark's word for anything, and Sark had no time for Vaughn whatsoever, nevermind what he had to say, it wasn't particularly surprising that none of their personal team objectives were met.

Sydney, as was expected really, was stuck in the middle of their seemingly endless tirade, though she at least had Weiss' company for part of it when it all became too overbearing. Sark could merely ignore Vaughn's existence altogether, so he wasn't that much of a problem. But Vaughn would simply not stop moaning about Sark's presence and was constantly checking up on the Intel he was providing or criticising him in front of others or just being plain annoying about any and everything Sark and he were involved in together.

As a result, Weiss had been called in to take on Vaughn's role in several of the previous assignments, and even he was getting irritated by his best friend's behaviour. So much so, he point blank refused to take the Agent's place on the trio's next mission, leaving Vaughn with little choice but to accompany Sark and Sydney – who, he couldn't help but notice, were far too comfortable with each other's presence for his liking.

They had retrieved the object and information that they had been sent for and were all set for leaving – actually they were all set for exiting the building and getting the Hell off the land altogether – when Vaughn was struck from behind by a blow to his back.

He spun round ready to face his attacker, as did Sydney and Sark once they'd realised what was going on, and was confronted with a punch to the face. Followed by another, and then another.

"Fight back," Sark muttered under his breath, exasperated; as he and the brunette watched Vaughn get thrown against the wall and hit in the face, again, before sustaining a hard blow to the stomach, doubling him over.

The blonde reached the Agent first, and immediately threw a fist at the attacker, sending him reeling backwards with the blow to the side of his face. Another, and he had fallen to the ground.

Instantly – or instinctively – reaching for the gun at the base of his spine, Sark withdrew it and was about to fire at the prone man on the ground, when he realised with a groan that it only housed tranquilliser darts – they still didn't trust him with a loaded weapon; much to his displeasure.

He rolled his eyes, grumbling sarcastically to himself, "Wonderful."

And doing the next thing that came to mind, when one could not subdue a subject through bullets, he brought the weapon down hard against the man's temple.

**So what if you can see,  
The darkest side of me,  
No one will ever change this animal I have become.  
Help me believe it's not the real me.  
Somebody help me tame this animal I have become.  
Help me believe it's not the real me,  
Somebody help me tame this animal. **

Then he jumped up and grabbed the sleeve of Vaughn's top and … 'helping' to pull him along the end of the corridor with Sydney, and out of the facility.

_A job well done,_ he thought with a smirk, and cast one last look behind him at the black uniform clad man rousing somewhat from his position on the ground, who met his eyes with a single nod of the head.

He saw Vaughn stumble slightly, a moan emitting from his lips, and Sark let out a low brief laugh, _A job well done indeed. _

**Somebody help me through this nightmare,  
I can't control myself.  
Somebody wake me from this nightmare,  
I can't escape this hell. **

They reached the safe house without any hassle, and after sending on the data they were told they were due for extraction the day, late morning. Meaning Vaughn would have plenty of time to rest and lick his wounds, while Sydney gave him all the sympathy and TLC he wanted.

It was sickening really, in Sark's opinion. The blood he had left staining the vehicle and then the bed sheets wasn't exactly pleasant, in fact his blood anywhere was downright unsightly, but Sark reluctantly admitted, in the end, it was worth it. After all, it wasn't everyday he got to witness Vaughn being beaten up and having his nose broken. In fact, he found it to be rather amusing; the panda eyes suited him well.

**This animal.  
This animal.  
This animal.  
This animal.  
This animal.  
This animal.  
This animal. **

"And how is Agent Vaughn?" Sark asked in a bored tone, when he heard Sydney close the back door and walk along the path towards him.

"This was all your doing, wasn't it?" Sydney said angrily, as she moved round the 'bench' to face him. "You arranged for that to happen, didn't you?"

"Yes, Sydney. I orchestrated an incident in which Vaughn would be injured; both slowly us down and resulting in me having to witness you fawning all over him for the rest of the night. Yes, that's exactly what I did."

And he rolled his eyes at her, turning his head to the side, as he voiced, "Don't be so ridiculous."

"Don't tell me when I'm being ridiculous, Sark. Don't – " she started to say; both participants knowing full well an argument was about to ensue.

It was for this reason, just to shut her up; Sark rose from his seat and in one fluid movement captured her lips with his own.

**So what if you can see,  
The darkest side of me,  
No one will ever change this animal I have become.  
Help me believe it's not the real me.  
Somebody help me tame this animal I have become.  
Help me believe it's not the real me,  
Somebody help me tame this animal. **

Sydney's eyes widened involuntary and she looked up to see his had darkened; hands on her shoulders dominantly; and she suddenly the only thought in her head was that it felt like the most delicious, astonishingly, amazing thing. So much so, that all she could do was kiss him back, arching into his embrace even as they moved backwards together; as one.

Her hands seemed to be on a mission of their own, as they suddenly connected with the cool metal of his zip, her fingers curling round it, ready to tug; when he shoved her off him.

He steadied his breathing, and taking note of this she immediately did the same; last thing she wanted to do, after all, was show him that he'd had an affect on her.

**This animal I have become. **

"Don't touch me again, Sydney," he spat out, turning on his heel before he could see her reaction, and languidly dropping into his previously occupied space, staring out at the dark night sky with sudden extended interest.

She couldn't help but think it was odd, his behaviour. He usually always liked to stay and watch, savouring his victories. His triumphs. His conquests. Which was obviously what she had become in the short encounter that had just transpired between them. Wasn't it?

It started to rain then, the droplets coming in short, sharp bursts at an angle declining straight towards her, and the only thing she thought to do then was run for cover, for shelter, for protection.

From the storm. Of course.

X

**Irina could never understand why Sark let Avalon drag him with her, or even why he let her do it at all.**

**She would always give the child her standard warning: "You're going to catch your death of cold", a slight frown and 'I-can't-quiet-believe-what-you're-doing' look, and then grow quiet.**

**They'd always sit and listen to the rain together, but one night Irina observed from the doorway as the young girl she'd helped raise stood out on the back porch and watched the storm alone. When, in an instant, she had leapt forward, sprinted down the steps, and ran out into the garden. Her arms were outstretched, her light blonde hair flowing behind her as her face turned up towards the sky.**

**The rain poured down around her; the thunder clapped above her; and she took a deep breath in, as she smelled the earth rising to greet her.**

**The child was glowing; her lips curved and spread wide, pure joy sounding from the base of her throat, as her eyes twinkled: a spectacular sight dancing in the moonlight.**

**She looked as if nothing could touch her.**

**Irina couldn't help but marvel at it; commenting with extreme sincerity, "You look invincible."**

**Avalon turned round, a smile on her face, and said simply, "I am."**

_T__BC ..._

* * *

Song: 'Animal I Have Become' by 3 Days Grace 

Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think - feedback means alot!  
Steph  
xxx


End file.
